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fyn gula
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"excuse me sir," a voice interrupted nylem's rage. it came from a scraggly white cat that limped on three paws, holding the injured one lifeless.
"but you have a phone call."
nylem leaped in the air as high as he could, not out of excitement or even anger, more so out of possibiity. phone calls to him were like storms. maybe lightening would strike, maybe a flood would wipe out a village. maybe rain would make the flowers grow. when he came back to the ground, he ran over to his caravan, this ornate box-like structure pulled by water buffalo painted blue. their long, sharp horns were delicately ringed with black and white. he ducked inside, bumping a row of chili peppers with his dreads.
the ringing of the phone was independant of the phone itself, actually done by a kapuchean monkey wearing a dress. she had a cowbell in her thin fingers and was swinging it back and forth. nylem had her teeth removed to eliminate the possibility of lawsuits, because you see she was his only source of income. he'd take her into villages. when she wasn't accepting sous and francs willingly from happy children, she was picking pockets from the unsuspecting parents.
nylem picked up the orange receiver. it was a fisher price phone, you know the one that could be pulled by a string and the rolling eyes in front would zip willy-nilly back and forth?
"what the fuck do you want?" nylem yelled. he was suddenly angry because he sat on a rotten banana. he could already feel the slimy juice seeping through the fabric of his outrageously priced A&F parachute pants.
"the old woman is dead. i ran her over with the train," the old man with the weezer t-shirt said, although he had changed it. this one said, "my wife says i never listen to her, at least that's what i think she said."
"who cares?" nylem said. "tell me something important, like copello is now an extremely dependant shutter addict and he thinks the marox pass is bullshit and completely unattainable."
"um, on the contrary," the old man said, swallowing hard, "helin broke through her father's selfish shell. copello is sober and back on the trail of the marox pass."
"what?!" nylem screamed. he threw the plastic receiver and it hit the little monkey right in the face. she shrieked and flew out of the caravan which startled the water buffalo. they yanked the caravan free from its shocks and off it went down the road in a cloud of dust. nylem barely noticed. he was so pissed.
he would have to go after the marox pass himself.
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